HP and the Confused Exarchnemesis
by ImminentGlory
Summary: When Lucius tells Draco that he's not his son but a product of adultery between Narcissa and a Muggle, he's shocked. But that’s just the beginning of the end. When everything falls apart, Draco finds that the last thing he wants the is one thing he need
1. Family and Friends

It is our choices that show what we truly are.

Draco learns something important about his past and worries about his future, while everyone else has enough trouble dealing with him in the present.

This isn't finished, and the beginning may end up being tweaked for quality and to fit the story as it continues. I decided not to post this until I was done with it, but do you see how strong my willpower is? I, eh, er, uh, I'm working under the Imperius Curse. That's it. Or I am review-hungry, and want opinions. Please, help a poor fanfic geek out?

Disclaimers – They're not necessary. If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be posting this on FF.N.

Chapter One

****

Family and Friends

Draco Malfoy paused just outside the oaken door of his father's study, wishing fiercely that he didn't have to go in. He felt a solid curl of apprehension in his stomach. He didn't know what it was from; how odd. Usually he expected to be chastised for mediocre grades or displaying an overly arrogant attitude around important people. This time, he knew it was neither of those.

He could hear burning-cold voices within – his father was very angry about something. He never sunk to raising his voice. Yelling would seem a childish imitation of the chill image Lucius preferred to project. 

"Get on with it, Draco, you're a Malfoy, Malfoys don't fear," he muttered to himself, "and you're sixteen! Grow up already." Straightening his posture, he knocked confidently on the door.

"Come in." 

Draco's breath quavered again and he nearly slapped himself. He turned the silver handle and entered the room – his father's room, dominated by his father's presence. Lucius sat regally in a meticulously carved and obviously ill-gotten ebony chair, intimidatingly throne-like. All intentional, of course. Lucius Malfoy did everything he could to stay on top, and often things that he couldn't. At the moment, he merely smiled icily and glanced disdainfully at his wife.

Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother, sat trembling in a burgundy leather chair, looking for all the world as if there were nothing she would rather do than pull her knees right up in front of her face. She looked up at her son and fought tears off. Draco didn't understand what was happening, but he did understand this – if one showed weakness, one was lost.

"Sit down."

Draco settled on a cold ebony couch and met his father's eyes.

"Son," said Lucius in a voice dripping with venom that would frighten any milder person, any Muggle, any Mudblood even, and Draco tingled with pride at his father's power. "We have both been lied to." Draco frowned and Lucius continued to smile coldly. "Or perhaps I misspeak myself?"

Narcissa muffled a sob and Draco snapped to look at her, his platinum eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Ask your mother, boy, or your father."

Draco bit his lip. WHAT were they talking about?! He started trembling. It couldn't be good. His father was being impersonated, perhaps, or he was mad… or drunk. Please, let him be drunk.

"Tell him, Narcissa."

Draco's mother tremblingly lifted her chin to face her only son, opened her mouth, and fainted dead away.

"Blast that wretched woman!" Lucius stalked to his wife's pale, limp form and slapped her across the face. She didn't move. He straightened, snapped his vision on Draco, and said, "Well, boy, I suppose it's up to me to tell you. Pity, as I've nothing to do with it."

Draco would have sunk back into the corner of the couch, had he been able to move. He was in terrible danger. Where was that godforsaken Potter kid when you needed your life saved?

"Oh, don't bother with the Malfoy pride, boy. Only Malfoys need worry about that." Lucius smirked. "Get it, boy? Your rotten mother didn't think a Malfoy was good enough for her, once. She took a filthy Muggle instead. She'll pay for that. But you, because of your mother's mistake, you've never been a Malfoy, you've never been pure-blood, and you never will be."

Draco gaped, forgetting everything he'd ever been taught in an instant of denial and panic.

"Wretched child. I can't believe I mistook a Mudblood for a son."

"You – you mean – I'm not…oh no."

"You will be allowed to spend summers in one of the homes I am not using at that time, but you will be expected to spend Christmas and any other breaks at school. And once you graduate, you're out. Now get out of my study. I don't want to see you out of your room until you leave for school."

He bolted.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Draco surveyed his militarily-neat, professionally-decorated bedroom. There really wasn't too much that was his, despite all the things he had. He determinedly gathered some clothes, a few old school things, his owl's things; he would have to buy his school supplies in Diagon Alley later. He reached under his mattress and retrieved his small (by his standards; it would be quite large to most teenage boys, he thought with a smirk; at least he still had that) stash of Galleons, Sickles, Knuts and the copy he'd made of his father's – er, Lucius' – Gringotts key. Draco listened sharply for any noise in the hall and when he sensed the coast was clear, he summoned a couple of suitcases with a quick "Accio!"

"Bloody… rotten… clothes!" he grunted as he shoved all his things into the suitcases. He shut them, shrunk them and stuffed them in the zippered pocket of a shiny leather jacket. He put it on, sighed, and turned to the mirror.

A Mudblood face.

His hair was disheveled. He briefly considered combing it, and wondered if leaving it would keep him from being recognised. He'd bet his broomstick that no one had ever seen an ill-groomed Malfoy. Them again, he reminded himself with a lump in his throat, he wasn't a Malfoy. He left it messy.

Hey, it worked for Potter.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Breakfast at the Weasleys' was invariably a hectic affair, and that didn't even take the noise into account.

"Mom! Make them stop!" pleaded Ginny as Fred sent the blackberry jam flying around the table.

"Stop, boys," said Mrs. Weasley, keeping her eyes on the bacon she was frying.

"Them? Boys?" said George. "I haven't done a thing."

Fred slipped under the table, followed by George, and when they popped up again they were in each other's places. The jam went around the table again.

"STOP!" yelled Ginny.

"STOP!" yelled Mrs. Weasley.

"I have!" yelled Fred.

George set down the jam and off went Fred's wand.

"Stop acting like you're still in school," said Ginny primly, and set George's wand into the teapot.

Ron leapt down the steps three at a time. "Are they here yet?" he yelped as a chicken pecked at his toes. He threw it out the window and peered eagerly for any sign of the car that would be bringing Hermione and Harry to visit for the rest of the summer.

"Not yet, dear," said his mother. "Have some bacon."

He grabbed a couple of pieces of bacon and bounced right back to the door.

"Sit down!" Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ginny all yelled at once, and the windows shook.

Ron went sulkily to his seat.

"I'm excited!" claimed Ginny. "I miss Hermione. I bet she'll help me with my Arithmancy."

Ron suspected she missed Harry more. She'd fancied him for five years.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Oh, dear, don't make poor Hermione do homework! It's summer!"

"Honestly, Mum," interrupted Ron with a mouthful of bacon, "she _enjoys_ it."

Mr. Weasley perked up. "Ah, do you suppose it's because she's from a Muggle family?"

"It's because she's a freak," Ron muttered under his breath.

"I mean, Muggles certainly do odd things… just think, they must have their parents drive them around in cars! All the time! How inconvenient! But quite fun, yes…" Mr. Weasley trailed off as his wife glared at him, clearly thinking of the old Ford Anglia he had once fooled around with.

"Well, I do hope Hermione's mother and her car get here soon," said Ron, "I've waited too long to see them already. I would have written to them more, but Pig's so little to carry such long letters and Errol seems to be on his last feathers. Still." The grey fluff hooted sleepily at Ron in protest, and then fell off his perch. Ginny giggled.

"Look, Ron!" Fred shouted, pointing out the window. "It's a tree!"

Ron jumped, scowled and sat back down. "Funny."

His excitement wouldn't let him stop smiling for long, though. He grabbed a biscuit and tried to eat it through a grin. He ended up sprinkling crumbs on the table as he tried to stare out the window and hold a conversation at the same time.

"Hey Ron, look," said George suddenly, "a chicken! Watch your toes!"

Ron attempted to strangle George and keep watch simultaneously, and failed miserably.

"Ron, you're missing them!" said Fred, and Ron looked up to see Fred pointing at the clouds. He let go of George and leapt for Fred.

The rest of the Weasleys looked up, sighed, and went back to their own matters.

George pointed out the window, grinning, and said, "Hey, it's them!" Ron hit him without even glancing at the window.

"Good morning!" shouted Harry cheerily. Ginny blushed madly and helped Hermione pry Ron off George. Ron whirled around, his face just as pink as Ginny's. George grinned gratefully at Hermione. Mrs. Weasley tried to hug everyone at once.

Hermione's mother stood in the doorway looking nervous. For good reason, too; as soon as Mr. Weasley saw her he began plying her with questions about "eclectic" screwdrivers and fast-food restaurants.

He was lured away by coffee and Hermione's promise to tell him all about it later if he would let her mother leave. Fred and George rescued everyone's trunks and owls and random whatnot from the car. Mrs. Granger hugged Hermione, Harry and Ron and left in a hurry. Mrs. Weasley gave another round of hugs as well and the chickens tried to do the same.

"Ah, sweet chaos," thought Harry.

"Here we go again," thought Hermione.

"Finally, some normal, sane people!" thought Ron.

"I like breathing. My brother's friends are my heroes," thought George.

"Messy hair is so cute - and scars," thought Ginny.

"I wonder if I could get away with hiding some fireworks in Harry's trunk," thought Fred.

"I wonder if Hermione will tell me how the internet works," thought Mr. Weasley.

"This family will be the death of me," thought Mrs. Weasley.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

"I'm _almost_ lost," thought Draco.

Draco frowned at the map and turned it around again. What was with these foolish Muggle maps? They made no sense! How were you supposed to tell which way London was? And all these little lines looked _nothing_ like roads!

He stalked down the road looking and feeling very exasperated. "I've got to run into something civilised soon, damnit, there can't be any more trees in England than I've already seen!" He wished bitterly that he had stolen some Floo powder to run away with, but at the time he hadn't wanted to risk Lucius' anger. After a few hours of walking, he was beginning to think that an irate Dark wizard's anger didn't sound that bad.

"Hey, boy, want a ride?" A smiling young dark-eyed, black-haired woman slowed her car to drive alongside Draco, throwing dust onto his trousers. He glared at the wheels on the little silver sports car and warned, "Watch who you call 'boy,' dirty Muggle twit." After all, he did still have his pride.

The girl looked terribly offended and sped off, flinging more dirt onto Draco's clothing. He thought too late that perhaps it would've been a good idea to accept her offer, even if she was horribly inconsiderate. It would have at least spared his attire.

Drat. Next time, next time. If he didn't end up walking to the sea before another car came by.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Ron, Hermione, and Harry bounded up the stairs excitedly, glad to be all together again. They were used to spending most of their time together at school year-round, and summer did odd things to them.

They reached Ron's room and all flung themselves on the bed. A moment of silence ensued as they all revelled in being restored to their usual state of togetherness, and then they all started talking loudly and enthusiastically at the same time.

"Oh, I have to show you my new…"

"You won't believe what Dudley…"

"I just learned the most fantastic…"

They all stopped, laughing, and had just opened their mouths again when a loud BANG! – even louder than the usual explosions - came from the twins' room. All three of them leapt off the bed and stared at the wall, half expecting it to fall over. When it didn't, they felt they had to investigate.

Ron knocked on their door. "George? Fred? What WAS that?!"

A scuffling noise came from inside the room, then there was the click of a lock and Fred stuck his head out the door. "We're… experimenting. New stuff for the shop. Go away." He ducked back in and relocked the door.

Hermione sighed. "I should have guessed. Ever since Harry gave them the money to start it up, every time I've seen them they've been experimenting, or planning, or at the least covered in burn marks."

"I'm half afraid they're taking after Hagrid and they've got a dragon in there," confided Ron. "You wouldn't believe the smoke coming out their window sometimes."

"Well, at least it would be easier to get a dragon out of here than Hogwarts," commented Harry.

"Yeah, and it'd be easier to burn down, too." Ron looked faintly frightened.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Professor Albus Dumbledore sat sorrowfully at his desk, examining the letter that had just been delivered by an extremely bad-tempered black owl which had broken his window, stolen his best gold pen and almost maimed the young phoenix Fawkes on the way out.

The eccentric scholar reached the end, made a slight noise of bemusement, and started again from the beginning.

It was written in a somewhat hasty scrawl, distinctly refined and also distinctly malevolent. It read:

__

Headmaster Dumbledore:

I write to you not out of ill will but out of regard for the safety of all the students of Hogwarts. 

I feel the need to warn you, there will be dire consequences if you ignore this counsel. I know that in the past, you have been advised to remove the boy Harry Potter from Hogwarts. I do not write you because of this; on the contrary, Harry Potter is one of the least of my concerns. I write now to tell you that you would do well to prohibit the return of one sixth-year student by the name of Draco Malfoy. I cannot tell you completely why he does not belong at Hogwarts; but I can tell you that he certainly does not belong in Slytherin.

If Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts, there will be harm to him and to those around him; though it will likely be unintended, it will be just as real. Draco Malfoy's return could upset the harmony of Hogwarts' students in a way that has not yet been seen.

The letter was unsigned.

Dumbledore folded the letter and placed his head in his hands. So, it would seem, someone else knew about Draco. He would stand by his decision, nevertheless, and just like every year all of his students would be welcomed back.


	2. If Thine Enemy

It is our choices that show what we truly are.

Disclaimers – They're not necessary. If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be posting this on FF.N.

Chapter Two

****

If Thine Enemy

Miles away, Draco felt a sudden chill down his spine. He didn't find it odd, though, because it was getting late.

Getting late, getting dark, getting very very cold.

Too cold for July, anyway.

Draco stumbled over his own feet and told himself it was a stone. He had been walking for hours and was so tired he was thinking about considering deciding whether to take a nap on the side of the road. He glanced down at the grass, up at the house, and over at the… wait. A house?

A house! Sweet refuge from the frost of the night!

Too exhausted to be haughty, Draco sauntered over to the door and rapped on it. No answer. He knocked again.

"Just a MINUTE!" yelled a voice from somewhere inside, and then he heard the sound of someone running down steps. Finally! Visions of pillows lurched crazily inside Draco's head.

The door swung open, and Draco put on his friendliest smile as he found himself face to face with…

Ron Weasley.

Just his luck.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Harry and Hermione climbed down the stairs, not yet noticing Ron standing shocked at the door.

"Who is it, Ron?" called Harry.

Ron demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"How hospitable," muttered Hermione. "Whoever is he talking to?"

They came up behind Ron, looked out the door, and almost died of surprise.

"What are you doing here?" queried Harry.

"Exactly," Hermione chipped in.

"That's kind of what I'm wondering," drawled Draco. "I'm a bit out of my way, Weasley. I was looking for somewhere to spend a night, but…" He trailed off as he realised that the redheaded boy he was looking at was more wizard than he was. Even Granger, whose parents were both Muggles, at least knew them

"But what?" asked Ron suspiciously.

"I'm tired. Could I, er, stayheretonight. And which way is London?"

"You… ah, you're a long way from London." Ron paused. "Come in. I'll ask my mom if you can stay." 

Draco stepped into the warm kitchen and almost smiled despite himself. He hadn't realised just how cold and anxious he was until relief came. Ron went to find his mother, giving Harry and Hermione a concerned look before he left, and the other three sat down around the table. Draco bit his lip and suddenly felt very unwelcome, though the expressions on Harry and Hermione's faces were more of puzzlement than antipathy. Normally he would have thrown a few insults at everyone to establish his dominance over the situation, but suddenly the Malfoy bravado seemed to have left him. Somehow he didn't feel comfortable calling Hermione a Mudblood anymore.

He tried polite conversation instead.

"So, er… bit cold, eh?"

"Yeah…" said Harry, looking suspicious. He seemed willing to see what was going on, though. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Okay…" said Hermione. "So what are you going to London for? Can you tell us that?"

He realised he could. "I'm going to buy my things for school."

Harry wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Walking?"

Draco glared at him.

"Okay, okay, I won't ask." Harry noticed the certain lack of the usual contempt in Draco's look, though.

Mrs. Weasley scurried into the room. "You're Lucius Malfoy's son?" Ignoring Draco's sudden look of panic, she went on, "Well, no matter if your father doesn't get along with my husband, if you're in trouble, you can stay here as long as you want. Right, Ginny?" She whirled around and gave her a stern look.

Ginny, who had just entered the room, looked rather torn but nodded anyway. George and Fred came down the stairs and stopped short, staring at Draco. Ron stood off to the side, trying to convince himself that Draco wasn't going to kill him during the night.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," crooned Draco, feeling rather bad now about all the things he'd said about her family and hoping she didn't remember.

"Of course, dear, of course. Now go on, all of you. My, I've got a fifth of all the sixth years right here in my house. You can sleep in Ron's room with the other two, Draco. Off with you all! I've got washing up to do out here, and unless you want to help you'll be in the way. Off!" Mrs. Weasley seemed to be able to talk faster than even Ginny on a sugar rush. She shooed them all away.

As the five youngest trooped up the stairs, Harry could hear Fred and George in the kitchen trying to convince their mother that she'd just made a mistake. "Don't you remember him, mum? – He's that boy who always insults everybody! – First day of school, he told Harry to stay away from our family – and he calls Hermione a Mudblood! All the time! – nastiest kid you'll ever meet – probably gets it right off his father – going to be a death eater, I swear - you don't want him under the roof…"

"Nonsense, boys, give him a chance. If he turns out to be a problem, we can feed him to that dragon you've been pretending you don't have."

"We don't have a dragon…" started Fred. George hit him in the ribs and he stopped.

"Then what is it that you do have?" insisted their mother.

They left quickly, without an argument.

Everyone else pretended they hadn't heard.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

The four of them stood uncomfortably around Ron's room, looking at the floor, the walls, the window - everything but each other.

"So… " somebody said.

Draco was examining the room, peering at the Quidditch posters and fiddling with Ron's things. "It's not that bad."

Ron looked very offended, and Draco amended, "I'm sorry. Arrogance is a hard thing to temper." Ron almost offered a retort before realising it wasn't appropriate.

Hermione appeared impressed at his newfound quasi-modesty. "Better, Malfoy. You're not quite good. But better."

He flinched. "Don't call me Malfoy. Just… don't. And I never wanted to be good like The Boy Who Was Made A Superstar here."

"So what are we supposed to call you? Ferret?" Harry seemed to amuse himself.

'Ferret' didn't seem a viable option. "My name is Draco," he said testily.

"Okay, Draco," said Hermione.

"Sure, Draco," said Ron.

"Draco," said Harry, testing it out. It felt funny to call him by a familiar name.

"Right. Hermione, Ron, Harry. Now that we're on a first name basis, is it time for bed? I've been exerting myself more than a highborn wizard should have to." He lifted his chin and dared them to challenge him.

They were feeling sleepy anyway. "Right, I'm off," said Hermione, and went off to sleep in Ginny's room for the night.

Ron and Harry grumblingly fetched some blankets while Draco stared out the window moodily. They all settled down around the room, Harry insisting on Ron having the bed mostly to keep Draco from taking it. They drifted off.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Ron was roused while it was still dark by an owl knocking on his window. He stepped over Harry to let it in. The owl dropped the letter it was carrying on Ron's bed and sipped briefly from Pigwidgeon's water bowl before taking off again. Ron shut the window before the cold could wake the others.

He opened the letter. "Draco," it began. Ron closed it quickly. He couldn't read this. It would be an invasion of privacy. But who ever expected privacy in a house that had housed nine people, a noisy ghoul and who-knew-what else? Besides, there might be something interesting. What if Draco was running from the law, or was planning a massacre, or a wild party!

That's it, it's my duty to open it, he thought. Making sure Draco was still sleeping like a baby, Ron gave in to his curiosity and unrolled the parchment.

__

Draco, darling,

I'm very sorry about the whole mess. I never dreamed that things would turn out this way. I don't know if you want an explanation but if you ask, I will give it to you. 

Lucius is in a mad fury as always, the Miinistry is investigating the manor, the house-elves are slacking in their duties, and I miss you, my son. I hope you are well, wherever you are.

I've sent your train ticket to Hogwarts and a key to your trust fund. I will try to make sure Lucius doesn't close it, but just in case, I recommend that you withdraw money soon.

Love,

Mother

What sort of trouble was Draco in? What sort of trouble were the _rest_ of them in?! Ron looked at Draco – who was no longer sleeping, but standing menacingly over Ron. 

He didn't speak for a long moment, and when he did his voice was cold. "Is that mine?"

Ron nodded numbly.

"Did you read it?"

Ron shook his head stupidly, hoping Draco would want to read the letter enough to forego beating him up.

Draco snatched the parchment from Ron, looking peculiarly like Snape confiscating things from Gryffindors in Potions class. Draco read the letter quickly, managing to look infuriated, heartbroken and bewildered all at the same time.

Draco looked at Harry sleeping on the floor. Then he looked at Ron and said, with a frightened lump in his throat, "Do you know what this is about?"

Ron truthfully said no this time, and Draco seemed to believe him. "Then don't try to find out. And don't tell anyone. It's no one else's business." He slipped a couple of things from the letter to his pocket and pointed his wand at Ron's throat to reinforce this.

Ron glared at him. How dare a guest threaten him in his own home! The wand did the trick though, and Ron swore secrecy.

Not from Harry and Hermione, though. They didn't count as "everyone else." Besides, they had to live with Malfoy too.

Ron shuddered at the thought of living with Malfoy. Well, it seemed the little lost boy wasn't living with anyone else.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

When everyone woke at last, the sun was up. Harry prodded Ron, dropped a pillow on Draco's head, dressed quickly and ran downstairs for breakfast. The others followed.

Hermione met the boys on the steps. Draco looked worn-out and worried, as if he hadn't gotten much sleep, but the other three were well-rested. They were all excited because it was the last day of July, and Harry's sixteenth birthday. 

Today they were going to go to Diagon Alley to get their school things, and then they were going for a foray into the Muggle world to celebrate Harry's birthday. Mr. Weasley was bursting with delight about interacting with so many Muggles. Hermione was somewhat worried that he was going to give them away.

Mrs. Weasley had made a huge chocolate cake for Harry's birthday. Fred and George had decorated it, and opted to replace candles with a variety of fireworks. The six Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and Draco gathered around the kitchen table to watch the show. George set the cake alight, and after a brief but dazzling glow, the fireworks went off and ricocheted around the room. It was fabulously bright and loud and lasted for so long that they were beginning to think they might starve, so they started cutting the cake by the light of the firecrackers.

The cake was delicious and the nine of them made short work of it. They talked all the while: Fred and George chattering away about their latest invention (they wouldn't tell anyone exactly what it was, but it sounded terribly exciting), Ginny and Mr. Weasley fabulously delighted about going to see the Muggle world ("Muggles! All over the place! Just think of it! We shall have to be careful not to give ourselves away, like spies!"), Mrs. Weasley planning the trip to Diagon Alley ("we'll have to get some new robes for Ginny, she's getting taller all the time, and all those books… well, we can split up this way…"). Ron, Harry, Hermione and Draco were getting along fairly well for being sworn enemies.

Draco was beginning to feel less out-of-place, although he was still worried about what was to happen to him. He needn't have worried. Mrs. Weasley was quite pleased to have him living in her house, even if the rest weren't, and he would be quite welcome until the school term began. Draco had not yet learned that in the Burrow, what Mum said went.

As soon as they finished the cake, Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and sent the dishes to wash themselves in the sink. Mr. Weasley got the flowerpot full of Floo powder out. "Who wants to go first?"

"Remember the magic words, Harry," smirked Fred, who had never forgotten that Harry's first trip using the stuff had sent him into Knockturn Alley, and was frankly still quite jealous about it. Harry elbowed him in the ribs. Draco didn't know about that mishap, and Harry wanted it to stay that way.

"Fred," his mother warned, looking murderous. Fred suddenly had an intense desire to get to Diagon Alley. He went first. Throwing down the powder, he yelled "Diagon Alley!" and disappeared in a flash of fire.

George followed him, then went Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Mr. Weasley said merrily, "Well, boys, who's next?

Harry said, "He can go first."

Draco looked as if an idea had just struck him. "No, you go first, Harry," he said.

The idea that had happened to Draco was this: if he was going to be living with these people for a month, and if they were taking him to Diagon Alley, and giving him food and being kind to him, maybe he should try to be nice. He certainly didn't like them - they were all annoying and not terribly clever, with the exception of Hermione who made up for that by being arrogant about it, and their style lacked quite a lot - but they could be worse.

Harry didn't expect Draco to be thinking this - to tell the truth, neither did Draco - and took Draco's sudden change of attitude as suspicious. Though not correct, this was a credit to Harry, as Draco acting oddly usually meant bad things. He didn't see how he could call Draco on it with Mr. Weasley standing right there waiting for them to go, though, so he offered a slightly bitter "thank you," climbed into the fireplace, threw down a bit of Floo powder and yelled "Diagon Alley!"


	3. When You Least Expect

It is our choices that show what we truly are.

Disclaimers – They're not necessary. If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be posting this on FF.N. Right, kids?

Super-Thanks to - Cherubic Sasami and Angelika, your reviews are quite helpful. They helped me clarify a couple of things. Angelika, especially; it's good to know the parts that stick out at the readers.

Chapter Three

****

When You Least Expect

Draco landed right behind Harry with a jolt that almost knocked both of them to the floor. 

Draco pulled away quickly, stood up haughtily, and fixed his messy hair. Harry tried to do the same and failed. Draco sighed condescendingly and muttered, "It's called hair gel, Potter. I would think you would have learned about it, even living with Muggles."

Harry wanted to say something very rude, but Ron's parents were still standing quite close; instead he settled with smirking as if he knew something Draco didn't. Draco looked reasonably taken back. Harry decided his honour was appeased – for now.

"Come on, boys!" shouted Mrs. Weasley impatiently. She had Ginny by the hand, and Ginny was quickly trying to figure out how to get out of her mother's grasp without offending her. She was her mother's only girl, true, but surely fifteen was old enough to walk by herself!

Harry saw her struggling and came to her rescue. "Hey Ginny, come look at this… uh, owl." Mrs. Weasley was busy looking over lists of supplies, so Ginny was let go. She gave Harry a grateful look and scurried over to examine the pet shop with the four sixth-years.

Hermione and Ginny "aww"-ed over a basketful of some little furry purple things that kept making crackling sounds. Ron looked wistfully at the grand eagle owls, wishing that Pigwidgeon were big enough to carry a box. Harry seemed quite taken by a miniature lion that kept roaring sofly at him and licking its lips. Draco was staring longingly at an emerald-green, shining baby dragon.

Harry laughed. "You know, Malfoy," (here Draco glared at him warningly), "er, Draco, that's still against the school rules. Do you remember our first year, when you got Hagrid in trouble for having a dragon?"

"I wasn't going to buy it, Potter," (Harry glared but Draco ignored him), "I have more respect for the school rules than you do."

Harry opened his mouth to argue the point but was interrupted by a loud explosion and a couple of high-pitched screams. He whirled around to see Ginny and Hermione looking abashed.

"Furball blew up," they explained at the same time.

They turned as they heard the door of the pet shop open. Mrs. Weasley stuck her head in and said, "Come on, it's time to get your school things." They could see Mr. Weasley and the twins across the street gazing longingly at everything in the window of the Quidditch shop.

The five filed out of the pet shop, and after Mrs. Weasley had retrieved the boys from the Quidditch shop (again), they all set off for Gringotts.

Gringotts Wizarding Bank was easily the biggest building in Diagon Alley, and the most intimidating. It was tall and leaning and made of white marble. Every time Harry saw it, he was reminded of his first visit there, when Hagrid had told him that a person would have to be mad to try to rob it. He couldn't imagine anyone being stupid enough to challenge the dragons that were supposedly guarding the vaults.

Every time Draco saw Gringotts, he was reminded of all the money his family had in there. He felt in his pocket for the two keys – one to his former father's account, one to his own trust fund. He wondered how much money was in there. It had to be a lot. It had better be a lot, or he was in trouble. He couldn't very well get a job while he was at school, could he?

The nine of them walked through the great wide doors of Gringotts into the large reception hall. Draco split off quietly to retrieve his money by himself, and heard behind him the rest of the group yelling things that sounded like "Bill!" and "What are you doing here?" and something about "cursed pyramids." Draco was intrigued by the last bit, but he could not be distracted – money was the prime objective here.

He went up to a gnarled little goblin sitting behind a great marble desk. "Draco Malfoy," said Draco. "I need to get into these two vaults." He laid his keys upon the desk.

The goblin looked at him crosswise. "Do you have _permission_ to get into these two vaults, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I do," said Draco, relieved that lying was one of his few strengths. The goblin seemed to believe him, or at least to not care enough to investigate, and called over another to escort him down into the vaults. 

"Griphook, lead young Mr. Malfoy" (Draco flinched; he was still sore about whether his last name was actually his) "down to vaults 298 and 563."

Draco followed the short goblin to a cart and they took off. He found it rather fun, and had to keep stern control over himself to keep from laughing in delight. If he had been more used to the Muggle world, Draco would have loved roller coasters. 

When they reached vault 298, Draco's heart began to pound hard. What if Lucius had had the lock changed on the family vault? He put the key in and twisted it. The door didn't open.

Oh no. This was bad. Would this be considered trying to break into a vault? They sent people to Azkaban for this! Lucius would kill him.

"Turn the key the other way, sir," said the goblin dryly.

Draco blushed hard, hoping the dark would obscure his face, and opened the vault, feeling very relieved. Griphook turned and stood guard outside the door.

He was nearly blinded by the shine of all the gold, even in the dim underground. He had known the Malfoy family was rich, but he hadn't known just what all that gold _looked_ like. It was stunning. He caught his breath and walked into the huge vault, pulling handfuls of golden Galleons out and stuffing them into his bag. The bag had been a Christmas gift. It was very nearly bottomless and could hold anything. 

When he thought he had enough, he climbed out and shut the door again. He heard the lock click solidly and followed Griphook back into the cart. It set off again, going faster and faster. Draco grinned at the wind in his hair and the gold in his bag and the good day he was having. He'd never felt good in quite this wholesome way before.

They reached the vault containing Draco's trust fund quickly and he unlocked it. It, too, contained an astonishing amount of gold. Since he'd wanted to get into it mostly to see how much money he had, he took only a little bit of money and closed it again.

Griphook and Draco took off for the main floor of Gringotts again.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Hermione saw Draco split off when they entered Gringotts, but she didn't mention it. "Good riddance," she thought. At least with Draco out of the way, they wouldn't have to see him smirking over their gold with his richer-than-thou attitude.

Hermione and Harry already had enough gold with them to buy their school things, so they and all the Weasley boys stayed up while Mrs. Weasley and Ginny went down to their vault. Harry hoped it was a lot fuller than usual, as Mr. Weasley had just received a raise at work. Harry always felt sorry for the Weasleys – they deserved so much more money than they always had, especially since they had seven children. The eldest, Bill, was here in Diagon Alley, having just delivered a load of gold from Egypt where he worked for Gringotts. Mr. Weasley and the twins were plying him with questions about the curses he'd seen on the pyramids.

Harry, Hermione and Ron played a game, tossing coins back and forth while they waited for everyone to regroup. The Gringotts employees – with the exception of Bill – glared at them for their blatant disrespect of money.

"Where's Draco?" Ron said suddenly. He narrowed his eyes and added, "Bet he's off robbing something."

"That's ridiculous," said Harry. "He'd never do something like that. In his own words, "that's servant stuff."

"That's servant stuff," chimed in Hermione at the same time, rolling her eyes. "He split as soon as we came in, I saw him. He's probably getting his own money."

Ron started turning red, thinking of all the Malfoys' money. "Bloody bastard doesn't really deserve it, he doesn't."

"Of course not," said Hermione. "That's the way things work. He who doesn't need it and won't appreciate it is most likely to have it."

"I'll bet his horrible father gives him seven times what he needs," said Harry. "He gets spoiled rotten."

Ron looked unsure. "I don't know, Harry, I think something odd is going on with him." He told them all about the letter that had arrived in the middle of the night.

"Weird," mused Hermione, dropping a coin. She retrieved it and said, "What do you think that meant, about the explanation?"

"I don't know." Harry and Ron couldn't think of any good reasons, or even any bad ones.

"That trust fund of his, though, that must be where he is now," Ron added. "I wonder what that was about his father closing it? Why would he take Draco's money away? Mr. Malfoy certainly has enough of his own. Even if he didn't, I think he could sell some of that 'good family name' he brags about," he said bitterly, thinking of how often Draco had made fun of the Weasley name.

"You know, I think Draco might've gotten kicked out of his house," said Harry. "I thought I'd laugh like crazy about that, but now I don't know if I should feel sorry for him or what. It's really not something I ever thought could happen. And he's not being as obnoxious as usual. Maybe he's learned a lesson."

"He has been rather less of a prat lately," said Hermione. "I just don't know what's going on."

"That's a new one," muttered Ron. "I guess his family finally got sick of him too. I thought they would have more patience, being horrible like him and all. They all hate people for stupid reasons. Stupid rich prat."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, isn't it disgusting, when people keep hating people without good reason?"

Ron missed her sarcasm. "Exactly!"

Harry saw Mrs. Weasley coming out of the vaults, with Ginny and Draco in tow. "Arthur!" she shouted excitedly, "Arthur!"

She pulled her husband into a corner and whispered fervently. Draco and Ginny joined Ron, Hermione and Harry. Draco looked shaky and confused, as if he'd just frightened himself, but he didn't seem willing to talk about it. Ginny was nearly leaping with excitement.

"It was fantastic! Mum opened the vault, and the bank must've made a mistake, don't tell them though, it was awesome, there was so much gold in there… we met Draco coming up, and he stopped, and Mum couldn't get the key to turn so Draco turned it, and when he stepped away from in front it glowed…"

Draco started looking faint, as though he were about to pass out.

"and we're rich, I swear!"

Ron, Harry and Hermione all looked confused. "But we can't keep it, it's not ours…" Ron said uncertainly.

"Of course you can, Weasley," said Draco. "The goblins said so. Possession is nine tenths of the law, you know. Just take it."

Hermione thought that Draco had more to do with this than he claimed. She also thought that he must have been hit upon the head pretty hard, or maybe he'd lost his memory like Professor Lockhart. She wouldn't complain, though; he was better this way. She just hoped he wasn't up to anything devious.

Draco added nastily, "You seem to need it," with a glance down at the hole in the knee of Ron's trousers.

"That's more like him," Hermione thought with bitter relief. She hoped he would say something else mean so she could kick him in the shin, but he quieted after that.

Harry stood silently off to the side, observing Draco's nervousness with curiosity. Ginny stood off observing Harry with interest, edging slowly toward him.

"Come on, children, let's shop," said Mrs. Weasley briskly as she herded them all out into Diagon Alley and handed out gold and school supply lists.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Within two hours, they were all loaded down with bags of books (Hermione seemed very excited and everyone else very upset about the number of books they were supposed to have this year) and school supplies for Hermione, Ginny, Draco, Ron and Harry, and nice new robes for everyone, a fuzzy little violet phoenix pup for Ginny (it turned out the exploding didn't harm them; they were rather like kittens in all other respects), and a couple of bags nobody would let Harry look in. He suspected them to be birthday presents, but George and Fred kept insisting that they were bricks ("You know, because Percy is investigating them. He's afraid that all the inferior bricks are going to suddenly explode. Very important work, Percy does. Don't know how we'd manage without him.").

They fought their way down Diagon Alley laden with all their new things, went through the wall to the Leaky Cauldron and set all their purchases down on a couple of tables near the fireplace. They were planning to send everything back to the Burrow and then go out into London to celebrate Harry's birthday.

Mr. Weasley pulled out a little bag of Floo powder and tossed a bit into the fire, making it turn emerald-green and roar above his head. He yelled, "the Burrow!" and, grabbing hold of a couple of heavy bags, stepped in.

Fred and George began tossing their acquisitions after their father for him to catch and store in the corners until they got home to look through them. Presently Mr. Weasley came back through and joined them, now with much less to carry and kneading his shoulders. "All taken care of! Shall we go celebrate now?"

They all looked at each other and broke into grins.

"Well," said George, "what are we waiting for?"


	4. Sweet and Sour

It is our choices that show what we truly are.

Disclaimers – They're not necessary. If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be posting this on FF.N.

Chapter Four

Sweet and Sour 

They walked out of the Leaky Cauldron, now garbed in "Muggle clothing." Mr. Weasley was terribly excited about his jeans. "Look, Molly, they're blue! And you can't put a hole in them with ANYTHING!" He promptly tripped over a curb and proved himself wrong. "It's amazing how well Muggles have got along without – " Mrs. Weasley had clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Where to, Harry dear?" Mrs. Weasley acted more like his mother than anyone he'd ever met.

"Lunch!" chimed Harry, and several people who weren't Harry.

Though they were dressed as Muggles, the jovial group still drew a lot of attention. For one thing, six of them had flaming red hair. For another, they kept staring at things like stoplights and revolving doors. Also, they were very loud and laughed quite a lot, or so it seemed to the jaded policemen and drill-company directors.

They wound up at a Chinese buffet, eating princess chicken and fried rice and egg rolls. The nine of them ate so much that the owner of the restaurant began walking around looking worried and dropping hints that they might close early. Finally they had eaten all they could and left.

Hermione and Ron and Harry and Ginny skipped down the sidewalk singing "Happy Birthday," with Draco hanging behind them looking embarrassed. George and Fred ran around them in circles. Mrs. Weasley tagged along, pleading, "Come on, Arthur, we'll lose them. Stay away from that… kids! Slow down! Where do you think you're going anyway?"

Harry hadn't even thought of that. He hadn't had fun in the Muggle world in so long he didn't know what there was to do. He tried to remember what Dudley had always done on his birthday. He thought of Dudley going with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to adventure parks, to hamburger restaurants, to the movies, and once to the zoo. Harry had gone with them on that occasion. The day at the zoo had been just before Harry found out he was a wizard, and the experience had been rather tarnished by his magic-prejudiced family blaming him for setting a snake free. He _had_ done it, but not on purpose – it really hadn't been fair.

Harry thought wildly, but everything that flashed through his head had nothing to do with celebrating birthdays. Finally he turned to Fred and George, who always had something to say about everything. "Any ideas?" Harry asked.

They still looked stunned by all the fantastically tall brick and shiny metal buildings surrounding them. 

Harry laughed and turned to Hermione. "Hey, Hermione, you've seen this already. Have you got any good ideas?"

She pointed at an advertisement on the side of a passing bus. "What about that amusement park?"

Everyone seemed to think this was a fantastic idea, so they flagged down a couple of taxis, somehow crammed everyone in (though how they did it with so much space left over, the drivers didn't seem to know), and headed for Seven Banners London.

At the gate of the park, Harry and Hermione sorted out the Muggle money that Mr. Weasley had obtained at Gringotts and paid for them all to get in. The attendants stamped their hands with red smiley faces. The nine filed through the turnstiles into the park.

They all promised Mrs. Weasley they would meet back at the entrance to the park at six o'clock ("sounds like time for supper anyway"), and then they were free to wander – or rather, argue about which way to wander. Fred and George immediately set off to who-knew-where (nobody was brave enough to ask what they were going to do). Mr. Weasley dragged his wife off to the games to try to win a goldfish. Ron wanted to ditch his little sister and Draco, but he didn't want to leave Ginny alone with him, so the five remaining were left to figure out what to do. 

Hermione was the only one who had ever been to an amusement park before. "Whatever you do, don't leave without riding a roller coaster!" she advised. Ginny looked nervous, but Ron and Harry looked eagerly above their heads. "That one's called the Steel Dragon," Hermione told them.

"Whoa…" Ron seemed impressed.

Draco was trying to seem nonchalant, but he really wanted to get on the huge Steel Dragon looming above him. "Come on," he said decisively, grabbing Ginny in one hand and a cone of cotton candy in the other. The vendor, fortunately, wasn't looking. The trio followed them to the long line.

"I _wish_ we were allowed to use magic here," Harry whispered to Ron, looking at the head of the line far, far away. With the sticky cotton candy to occupy them, though, the time passed quickly and soon they were climbing onto the platform, and then into the hot metal cars. The attendant looked uneasily at Ginny, who seemed not to be looking forward to the ride, and even less so when she saw the meager restraints. She got in, though, mostly because Draco had hold of her hand again and was dragging her on. She was starting to really not appreciate him, on a personal level. Being a self-righteous spoiled brat was one thing, but making people ride on big metal death-traps was another entirely. Draco was nearly bouncing out of his seat with excitement, and Ron and Harry were trying not to tremble.

"Come on, Harry, you've beated You-Know-Who _how_ many times, and you're afraid of this?" he muttered to himself.

Hermione was distracted by her amusement at the others' reactions. "Get ready, it's going to start moving," she warned them. Ginny gave a slight squeal and wondered if she could make them stop and let her off.

The cars mounted the first hill with a lot of clacking metally noises, and then the world dropped out from underneath and the whole lot of them screamed. Draco thought he was going to die, and Ginny suddenly was having a lot of fun. Harry and Ron and Hermione whooped and shouted and they all held their hands up to the sky.

Another hill, a corkscrew, a hill, a loop, three big hills and a tunnel, then there was a smaller hill to slow the train down and it lurched to a stop on the platform again. 

The five of them stumbled off and down the steps to the main boardwalk.

"Let's do it again!" sang Ginny.

"I think… later," Draco groaned, but he was grinning.

"Look, everybody, Draco's happy and nobody's even been injured or insulted!" murmured Ron to Hermione and Harry.

Draco had apparently heard as well. He turned around, started to say something rude, then thought better of it and stalked off ahead of them.

Harry watched him walk away, feeling something too much like pity to be connected to Draco. Nevertheless, he turned to his friend and said, "Ron, maybe you should cut him some slack. You know already that there's something more going on with him than we suspected, something weird."

Ron's reaction was rather like Draco's. Finally, he said, "What, you're on _his_ side now? After all the times he's made fun of you, of me, of Hermione?" Harry tried to respond, but Ron barged on, "Fine, you're the birthday boy," and clamped his mouth shut sulkily. He turned away from Harry and stared up at the Steel Dragon.

Harry shook his head speechlessly and looked to Hermione. She was biting her lip in confusion, not knowing how to fix this either. Ginny went to her brother and tried to bring him to reason.

Harry sunk onto a bench, feeling like this was his worst birthday ever. Worse even than the birthday when Aunt Marge came to visit! His archnemesis was living in the same room as he was and his best friend wasn't speaking to him. What was next, dementors invading the park?

"Look, Ron," said Harry suddenly, "I just don't want to fight on my birthday. That's all. Can we just all _pretend_ to get along, at least?"

Ron turned to Harry, his eyes looking unusually damp. "Pretending? That's all you were doing?"

"Yes… no… I just, I just don't want to deal with everybody hating each other today. Just pretend he's Percy or something, can you? Ignore him. You know how hard it is to have fun when Draco's mad and glaring at you around corners all the time."

Ron rubbed his eyes. "I guess. For your birthday. Tomorrow, I hate him again, right?" He paused. "Where did he go, anyway?"

"I don't know where he is." Harry tried to force himself to want to find Draco, reminding himself that Draco hadn't tried to curse him in months.

Hermione looked nervous. "Should we go find him?"

Ron didn't think that sounded like fun. "C'mon, Hermione, it's not like he's going to get attacked if we're not with him. It's a theme park!"

"Still, he hasn't got a watch. He can't go off by himself the whole time, he won't know when to meet us up. And more than that, I am worried about leaving Draco Malfoy to run around by himself in a place crowded with Muggles."

"She's got a point," agreed Harry.

"Come on, Ron," said Ginny plaintively. "You don't want him to go around turning other people into ferrets, do you?"

"All right," he said, rolling his eyes. "Where d'you expect he'd be?"

Ginny pointed down the walkway. "He went off somewhere that way."

The four set off toward the centre of the park, pushing past wound-up children and frazzled parents. There was no sign of Draco anywhere.

"Maybe he's on a ride," suggested Hermione.

Harry's eyes searched frantically over all the rides. "What looks like something Draco would be on?" he asked. They conferred.

A merry-go-round… he wouldn't be caught dead on it. A haunted house, too cheesy – unless he was trying to scare kids in there. A couple of little roller coasters; too small scale. Draco liked to do things big and flashy. There were heaps of games but they didn't think Draco had any Muggle money, and they knew he wasn't stupid enough to try to spend wizard money there. A kiddie area, filled with cartoon characters – no. Just no way.

"Well, what else is around here? All the big roller coasters are on the other side. Do you think he looped around?" asked Hermione, kicking at the pavement nervously.

Suddenly, they heard a familiar voice. Draco's derisive snicker drifted over to them from a crowd of people by a patch of trimmed trees. Looking worriedly at each other, they hurried over to see whether he was giving them away.

"You call that magic?" Draco queried of a short, offended-looking man dressed in cheap blue robes, obviously a Muggle. Clutched close to his chest, the man had a white pigeon, which fluttered nervously as Draco confidently held his hand out to it.

__

SNAP! The pigeon quite unexpectedly turned into a white-furred ferret. The crowd gasped and clapped appreciatively, thinking this was part of the show. The Muggle showsman seemed very confused, and mumbled something about his employers changing the routine without notifying him. Draco bowed, smirking.

"What does he _think_ he's _doing_?" Hermione said. "_What an idiot._" Ron shook his head in bewilderment.

Harry's attention was drawn to a young woman in the crowd. She was the only person not expressing surprise at the trick – in fact, she looked rather annoyed. She had her hand twisted up in her long, curly black hair, and her dark eyes gazed piercingly at Draco. The glare was oddly familiar. Harry realised after a minute that it was the same waiting look Snape gave Gryffindors on the rare occasions when he couldn't yet figure out what to blame them for.

"Oh no," muttered Ron, "I _knew_ something like this was going to happen." He wanted to go yell at Draco, but he figured that if Draco got called on it by the Ministry, it was better to not be involved.

Hermione pushed through the still applauding crowd, eliciting several rude comments, and stalked to Draco. "_Turn it back_," she hissed into his ear.

Draco shrugged and turned back to the ferret. Holding his arm out again, he muttered something no one could hear. The ferret returned to its original pigeonic state, albeit a bit more confused.

Hermione grabbed hold of Draco's sleeve, frowning. She dragged him away from the crowd, who were still cheering, and to an empty bench. Harry, Ginny, and a very annoyed-looking Ron gathered around.

Draco said, "Hey, that's mine!" as Hermione pulled his wand out of his sleeve and stuffed it into her pocket.

"No more magic here," she said. "You can have it back later."

"Come on," he entreated, "didn't you see their faces? That was _good_."

"That was illegal," said Ron, "and I certainly hope you get expelled for it."

Draco frowned. "I was just having a little fun."

"Please, Draco, no more fun. I mean, fun, but not fun that gets us jailed on my birthday. Let's just ride roller coasters or something."

He seemed to perk up at that. "Yeah! I wanna ride that tall one," he said, taking charge. He seemed to regard them as substitute Crabbes and Goyles.

The rest of the day went smoothly, although they had to take turns kicking Draco in the shins for bossing them around and he ended up fairly bruised. They were all very happy when they met up at the front of the park at six o'clock.

The Weasley parents had six fish and several stuffed animals. Fred and George were dirty and, judging from the way they were keeping watch, had gotten on the wrong side of at least on security guard. Ron and Harry and Draco were tired from walking so much, and Hermione and Ginny had been giggling over something they wouldn't tell about for the last hour.

The party moved out of the park and back to the Leaky Cauldron, where they had a feast so decadent that not even Ginny could resist, despite all the cotton candy she'd eaten and her persistent complaints that she felt quite ill from the sugar. Then, feeling sleepy, they all went back to the Burrow.

"I think I'm going to bed soon," yawned Harry. It was only eight o'clock but he was about to fall over.

"Oh no you don't!" said Fred.

"We've got something for you to do first," added George, holding up a bulging bag.

Harry looked intrigued.

They all gathered around the table to watch Harry open his birthday gifts. They included, among other things, lots and lots of candy – Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans, Pepper Imps, Chocolate Frogs, and some toffees from Fred and George which looked quite suspcious. He set those aside and made a mental note to get Neville to try them first.

At last, Harry, surrounded by wrapping paper and wearing a huge grin, thanked everyone and started piling his arms with bags of candy, his new Gobstones set, broomstick-care supplies, and books on Quidditch and "interesting creatures" (Hagrid still seemed to hope that Harry would take after him). His godfather Sirius had sent him an new embroidered invisibility cloak from India, where he had been while hiding out from the Ministry of Magic.

Harry was just about to start climbing the stairs with all his birthday presents when Draco spoke behind him.

"You forgot one," he drawled, pulling something out of his pocket.

Sixteen eyes turned to him in surprise. Why had Draco gotten Harry a birthday present? Everybody knew he didn't like him.

"Well, take it, Potter!" he snapped, not entirely unkindly.

Harry dumped his armful of gifts on the table, and slowly took Draco's package. All eyes were on the two as Harry unwrapped the box, and pulled out…

An action figure.

Of himself.

Harry looked confused. Draco smirked at him. "Potter, Potter. You need to learn the importance of knowing your own popularity. I'll bet you didn't even know there were action figures of you."

No one else seemed to have been aware, either. Ginny giggled, and took the enchanted figure away to play with it. It struggled briefly and then took to trying to climb her braided hair.

Harry and Ron both shook their heads in bewilderment. George and Fred were doubled over with laughter. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed slightly embarrassed, and Draco snickered at the miniature Harry, who was sitting on Ginny's shoulder, looking sleepy.

The miniature Harry yawned, and the real Harry yawned in response. That started a chain that set everyone thinking about bed.

Harry smiled uncertainly and thanked Draco, and they all headed upstairs. 

Each one was asleep the second their head hit the pillow.


	5. Back to School

Angelika! Thank you for being such an enthusiastic reviewer. You give me a lot to think about.

I have eight chapters written now, but I'm keeping them away so I can back-edit as needed when I think of a new plot twist. Muahahahaha. But here's the fifth to keep you amused. I stopped writing this for a long time, but I've written three chapters in the last three days, so I think it's going again.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

It is our choices that show what we truly are.

Disclaimers – They're not necessary. If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be posting this on FF.N.

Chapter Five

****

Back to School 
    
    The last month of the summer holidays passed more or less uneventfully. Fred and George blew the wall out of their room, but it was fixed; Hermione's cat Crookshanks tried to eat a chicken, but it was saved. The boys played a lot of Quidditch, but none of them were permanently injured.

Also, they were attacked.  
  
Harry and Hermione had been once again holding Ron back from attacking Draco, who had made no effort to break himself of his tendency towards senseless provocation and to prove it, had accused Ron of cheating at Quidditch. Ron was indignant. Draco leaned against the outside wall of the Burrow, looking as complacent as he possibly could, and enjoying the havoc he had wreaked.

Harry remembered seeing a vague blur hit the wall right next to Draco. His first wild thought had been that Fred and George had shot Pigwidgeon out of a cannon. However many times he played it back in his head, he couldn't remember where it had come from - the first anyone noticed of it was the dent it left in exactly the spot Draco's head had been a moment before. 

The next second, they were being showered with rocks. Their argument was quickly forgotten as they all ran for cover. Harry dodged left and right, feeling strangely as if he were playing Quidditch. 

He had heard a yell behind him. Draco had fallen and was lying on the ground, arms clutched over his head. Harry glanced up to see a vicious blur hurtling down on Draco. Before he knew what he was doing, he had leapt for it and closed his hand upon it.

A few more rocks thudded into the ground, and all was silent. Draco, shaking with the tension of near harm, unfolded himself and stood up shakily, staring at the rock sitting harmlessly in Harry's still outstretched Quidditch glove. 

Harry couldn't hear for the buzzing in his ears. He could see Hermione at his side, saying something he didn't understand. "What?" he said dully.

"I said, you saved his life," she repeated, wrapping her hand in her sleeve and taking the rock from Harry. Examining it more closely, they had seen nothing unusual, and had told her so.

"It might have given him some brain damage, but that wouldn't have killed him!" objected Ron. He looked like he felt cheated.

"You don't read, I forgot," Hermione said, sighing. She turned toward a bare patch of ground and flung down the rock. It had made a slight indent, but no worse.

"What are you talking about?" said Draco, frowning and rubbing his unharmed head. "It's just a rock." He reached down to pick it up.

"DON'T!" screeched Hermione, and pulled him back. He looked bewildered.

"Look at it," she said. "Just watch. That ant's going to climb on it."

"Mad, she is," muttered Ron to Harry. "Thinks the ant is going to kill Draco. Mind you, I wouldn't complain."

"That's been made obvious," Harry had answered, still watching the rock. The ant paused before it, considered, reached out its tiny antenna…

and crumbled into dust.

Draco started to perplexedly reached out to poke the had-been-ant, and then had come to his senses and moved away from the rock. "That's wrong," he said.

"That's a cursed rock," said Hermione. "It kills every living thing it touches." Surely enough, when they had looked around, every fallen rock was lying in a patch of bare dirt.

Draco swallowed loudly, looked at Harry with wide eyes, and said, "You saved my life." He didn't seem sure whether to be ingratiated or offended.

Harry had said stupidly, "I didn't mean to." Ron laughed, and then, realising his mistake, Harry had amended, "I mean, it was instinct."

Draco laughed hollowly. "Yeah, saving us seems to be second nature to you."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying, Malfoy, that you would rather that rock had hit you? Because I can arrange that."

They all ignored that.

"How did you know it would do that, Hermione?" asked Harry.

"It seemed to glow a bit when you turned it away from the sun," she had told them. "I read about a potion like that that makes things untouchable in _One Thousand and One Illegal Potions_."

"But if it was that…" asked Draco, and they were all focused on Hermione now, "where did it come from? Rocks just don't rain from the sky."

They all turned to Harry, as if he knew someone who dropped poisonous rocks for fun. He shrugged. "I don't think rocks are Voldemort's style."

Draco stared up. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it was that bloody Muggle who called me 'boy' and got dirt all over my clothes, out to exact revenge for me not riding in her car."

The other three looked at him as if they suddenly suspected him of being in some weird cult (other than the Death-Eaters, that was). He shrugged and said, "Well, I'm popular. Most people like to be in my good graces. Pity she took it so hard."

Ron shook his head in bewilderment. "Let's just round them up before Mum or somebody gets hold of one."

They gathered the rocks and buried them. Hermione had done her best to neutralise the poison, but they still didn't want to leave them sitting around. None of them wanted to tell the Weasley family for fear of being made to stay inside for the rest of the holidays.

"Harry?" said Hermione

"What?" He didn't suppose he knew anything useful that she didn't.

"Do you want anything from the trolley?"

Harry blinked and fell out of his memory back onto the Hogwarts Express, making its way towards school for another year.

"Oh, er… yeah."

He got some candy and shared it with Ron and Hermione. Draco had deserted them as soon as they got to the station, apparently desperate for some Slytherin companionship. Or drooling entourage, as Ron liked to call it.

They were quite relieved to get rid of him, although not as relieved as they thought they would be. They had started to get used to him.

He was acting nasty as usual again, being around his Slytherin mates, and looking like he was having quite a good time at it. Crabbe had apparently learned to talk over the summer, and was picking up pointers from Draco on being offensive and admirable at the same time. 

Crabbe stuck his head in the door of their compartment. "Oh, look, it's the fantastic trio," he jeered. "How's it going, Potter? Any murder attempts lately?"

"Yes, but sadly, you still seem to be here," Harry retorted. He suspected that the giggling outside the door belonged to Malfoy and Goyle, and wondered if Draco had completely forgotten the whole "deadly rock" incident.

Crabbe ignored Harry's reply and moved on to his next target. "Granger. Nice hair. I see you've decided to stick with the "beaver" look?" He ignored the facts that not only did frizzy hair have nothing to do with beavers, but Hermione's teeth no longer resembled a beaver's in any way and, in fact, had not since early fourth year. His memory was commendable, if not his observation skills.

Hermione had not stuck to the "beaver look," as he called it, but she did stick with her usual response of rolling her eyes and ignoring him.

"And Weasel boy!" Crabbe seemed to be getting discouraged, but plowed on. "Still poor, eh? Pity." Some of the snickering outside the door abated. "Your mother really could use a new dress. Her old one makes her look like a hobo clown."

Ron stood up. "Shut up about my mother."

"What, who's gonna make me? _You_?"

"No, me." Crabbe turned around to see Draco standing with his hands on his hips. "Shut up about his mother, Crabbe. There are some things you just don't touch. You've got a lot to learn."

"But you said…" Crabbe trailed off, trying to remember just what Draco had said.

"What did I say? Not that you can talk about Weasley's mother, that's for sure." Draco narrowed his eyes. "Go get me a hot chocolate, or I'm not speaking to you."

Terrified at the prospect of losing his claim to fame, Crabbe hurried off.

"Well, Goyle?" Goyle clearly had no idea what Draco wanted him to do. "Go with him!"

Goyle hurried off in pursuit.

"It's nice to see you care about _somebody_ besides yourself, Draco," said Ron. "Though why you like my mother so much is lost on me." He froze, realising that he should have phrased that more carefully. Any old evil prat could twist that sentence around.

Draco didn't bother. "I like your mother, Weasley," he said, "because your mother likes me." He strode in and took a seat next to Harry, making himself welcome to the candy before pushing it to one side.

Hermione, Ron and Harry went silent, mystified by the simplicity of Draco's declaration. "So," Hermione said, "You mean, 'treat as you would like to be treated'? How… logical." She clearly had not believed he had that sort of sense.

"Certainly not!" he protested. "It goes, 'treat as you are treated.' I'm not going to waste kindness on some vicious prat who wouldn't help me for his life." He fixed his eyes on Ron.

"Neither am I," said Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes, as was her wont. "You boys! You're so much alike that you can't possibly get along."

They looked very offended. "We are NOT alike," Ron and Draco said in tandem.

Harry, who had been spectating, shook his head oddly. "Whatever. This is just still weird."

"What's weird, Harry?" Ron asked.

"You and Draco, not trying to kill one another."

"We are, Potter," Draco sneered. "We are. In our heads."

"You're something in your heads," said Hermione. "But pretend to hate each other, if you insist. Just hand me a chocolate frog first."

= = = = = = = = = = = =

The first feast of the year at Hogwarts never failed to be extravagant. Thousands of lit candles drifted lazily above the tables, which were laden to the point that they creaked with hundreds of golden plates and goblets. Far above the students, the ceiling flashed with lightning and early-autumn stars. Excited chatter echoed around the Great Hall as friends rushed to greet each other. The staff looked happy to be back at work, even Snape, though he showed it with a cross smirk that made the younger students cower.

"Harry!" shouted a very excited boy.

Harry turned, and wondered if he could run for it. Heading toward him was Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor two years younger than he and possibly the most annoying admirer he had ever had. It was nice to be liked, but Harry was worried that Colin would end up going insane and killing him in his sleep. He would hate to have survived certain death so many times only to go out unexpectedly like Selena.

"Harry! Hi, Harry! Wow, you're a sixth year now, aren't you, Harry! Did you have a good summer, Harry?"

"Er, yeah, Colin. Yeah. Great."

"Isn't this great, I'm so excited about this feast! So is my brother! He's a third year now!"

Harry could see Dennis Creevey waving maniacally at him from halfway across the Great Hall. He waved back quickly, and hurried after Ron and Hermione.

"There you are, Harry!" said Hermione.

Ron added, "C'mon, let's get seats! I'm _starving_!"

The students slowly migrated to the benches, lured by the promise of food. They stared hungrily at the staff table, waiting for the Sorting and the start-of-term announcements.

Presently the first years came in, looking terribly nervous as always. They walked between the long tables as if they were running the gauntlet, only far more hesitantly. Harry grinned at them for encouragement. He could see Draco, across the hall, making stern faces at them. Harry wasn't quite sure whether he was trying to scare them or tell them to look at Professor McGonagall.

Harry didn't recognise any of the new students. It made him feel old. The Sorting seemed agonisingly slow, and their plates looked agonisingly bare. Rubbing his stomach to keep it from growling, Harry stared blankly up at the front of the hall until Professor Dumbledore finally stood up. Every student in the hall applauded.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts," called Professor Dumbledore. "I have just a couple of announcements, and then I will leave you to the feasting part of this feast." A few of the older students cheered.

The headmaster smiled. "Now, then. First off, I would like to introduce our customary new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Snape."

A worried whisper filled the hall. Professor Snape had wanted this job for years, and was quite clearly pleased - he was scowling terribly, which was his favourite expression. The students, however - especially Gryffindors - knew that what Snape wanted tended not to be good for them. The Slytherins, being Snape's house, were ecstatic, as this meant preferential treatment in a new class.

"Filling in the uncustomary Potions vacancy will be a new teacher, Professor Bush." Professor Bush was a short, grey-haired witch with a slightly dazed smile, as if she weren't quite sure where she was. She greeted the students with a neat bow and sat down again, looking at Professor Dumbledore for cues.

"I hope you will all make Professor Bush feel welcome, and perhaps she will want to stay for next year as well." Professor Dumbledore and the students laughed, and Professor Bush looked confused and slightly worried. Dumbledore was apparently afraid that she was going to run out on them any second, because he went on quickly.

"And now, what we're all here for!" He raised his hands (in the process knocking over his empty goblet with his left sleeve and Professor McGonagall's with his right) and declared the feast begun. Mounds upon mounds of food appeared upon the tables. The first years gasped and everybody else set in on the feast without stopping to take a breath.

Draco was sitting with Crabbe and Goyle as he usually did. He watched, disgusted, as they scarfed down everything they could reach. What pigs! No wonder their brains didn't work - they were clogged.

To amuse himself while he picked at his dinner, he stared at Harry unabashedly. It made the boy squirm. Draco smirked as the Dream Team held an impromptu meeting to figure out his motives. Bloody well useless, he thought. It was for no reason. The perfect crime. They were such fun. To make fun of, Draco thought quickly. Fun to make fun of.

Harry looked up and met Draco's eye. Draco smirked and looked down, leaving Harry checking frantically to see if there was food on his shirt.

It was good to be back.


	6. Changes

Thank you,

Lonely Ghost – I'm not quite sure yet, myself, who Draco's father is. Of course we'll find out sooner or later. I have some ideas, and I've gotten some, and your joke was a joke of my own once. Strange. I love your ideas, and it's great to hear which parts of the story strike you most. Very helpful. And I also loved how long your review was, it's always much fun to get those.

Alexial – Read on. I only find out what happens shortly before you do. :)

It is our choices that show what we truly are.

Disclaimers – They're not necessary. If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be posting this on FF.N.

Chapter Six

****

Changes 

The first week of classes left the students tired but restless. The Gryffindors spent Friday night, as they had most of the week, gathered in their common room, unwilling to separate from friends they had just been reunited with. Harry and Hermione sat near Ron and listened as he read them a letter from his family.

"I guess they finally decided that giving Snape the job will be the best way to get him to stop asking," wrote George when he heard of it. "This will make him either satisfied or dead."

Fred added, "If I were you, I'd probably wear armour to class from now on, though."

The idea was vetoed after much consideration, and after Ron's observation that it was already hard enough carrying all their books to class. "His plan already seems to involve wearing us down through heavy weights. I don't think we should help him with it."

"It might help us train for Quidditch," said Harry.

The first few weeks of Quidditch practice were taxing as well. Ron was ecstatic to be team captain as well as a Beater, and he was determined to outshine his brothers. Harry was the Seeker for the sixth year running. Both of them routinely returned to the Gryffindor tower late and sweaty. They jokingly tried to get Hermione to try for the team, but she just rolled her eyes and kept working on her homework.

"Come on, Mione, you'll be good at it. You're naturally talented at everything," insisted Ron.

"No, Ron. How about you try doing your essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Spoilsport," he muttered, reluctantly going to get his books.

Harry, having already done his essay during Potions (Professor Bush was very nice. Once the work was done she didn't care what the students did, and best, she didn't invent more work for them), sat down beside Hermione and watched the fire while waiting for Ron to return.

"Hey… Hermione?"

"Hmm… what?" she murmured, putting the end to her overlong essay. 

"Have you seen any of Draco lately?"

"Well, no, Harry," she looked up at him, "I didn't expect to."

"He's gone back to his own kind," said Ron, lugging his books down the stairs. "Hey, I don't think this is mine. Where did this come from?" he muttered to himself.

"Still, I wondered if he's really nicer than he used to be." Harry looked disappointed.

"Maybe on the inside, but he's got a reputation to keep up. If he started petting kittens instead of kicking them, there would be talk," said Hermione.

"I think my mum taught him to ignore them, at least," said Ron. "He seemed to like her. She just likes everybody."

Suddenly, a loud wailing filled the castle. "Peeves!" yelled more than one person. But the wailing continued, and after a few moments it was followed by Professor McGonagall's voice announcing that all students were to come to the front lawn of the castle as quickly as possible. Panicked students dropped everything and ran down the staircases to arrive outside, panting. A group was forming around the teachers, and prefects were running around trying to call roll.

Harry, Ron and Hermione pushed their way through the chaos toward where they could see Hagrid towering above the crowd. He was wringing his hands and looking around nervously.

"A monster on the lam, do you think?" said Ron.

Hagrid didn't know what had happened. None of the other teachers appeared to, either. Filch wasn't there, and neither were Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall. Snape looked grouchy as usual, but the rest of the professors just looked confused. Finally, Dumbledore and McGonagall showed up. Dumbledore stood on the stairs and looked out over the school, assembled there on the lawn.

"We have been alerted of a bomb within the school," Dumbledore stated, flat out. The whole crowd gasped in unison. "Don't worry, as long as you are all out here, you will be safe," he assured. "Mr. Filch is currently searching the school and it will soon be safe to return inside." He smiled down at a couple of first years who were shivering in the wind. "In the meantime, the teachers will be conjuring fires to keep you warm. Please do not conjure fires of your own, though marshmallows are acceptable." He stepped down and began pulling out marshmallow roasting sticks to distribute to the students.

"What do you think of that?" said Harry, holding his marshmallows over a small blue fire.

"Why would anyone want to bomb the school?" said Ron. "Except for the usual 'pure evil' excuse, I mean."

"What, do you suppose Voldemort's wandering around in our dormitory right now?" sniggered Hermione.

Gryffindor Tower exploded.

People shrieked and ran from the castle as bits of stone and furniture rained down. Most of the debris didn't come anywhere near the students, to the immense relief of all. The few bits that did were deflected by quick-thinking teachers.

"Well, at least no harm came of it," drawled Snape.

The Gryffindors stood in shock, staring at their home in pieces. Ginny held a piece of her trunk and started crying. Many people sat down heavily on the cold ground, oblivious to the rest of the crowd. Seamus Finnegan sank down dazed and set his pants on fire.

Filch stormed out of the castle minutes later, a soot-covered student in tow. "I've found the culprit!" he yelled, dragging the student towards Dumbledore. A low gasp went out over the crowd as the student raised his head and they recognised Draco Malfoy.

"I didn't do anything!" he exclaimed. "I was just looking for my book!" He winced as a chunk of stone flew from the crowd past his head.

"Likely story."

"Rotten little twerp…"

"You see, I told you he was bad news…"

"Oh my gosh," said Hermione.

Ron was torn between fury and confusion. "But he… his book?"

Harry tore his gaze from the screaming Draco and looked at Ron. "What about Malfoy's book? It's just an excuse," he said bitterly.

"But his book was there," said Ron.

Harry and Hermione stared at him as if he'd gone mad.

"One of my books, it wasn't mine. Draco and I got them switched. I noticed just before the alarm sounded. I don't think he was lying, mates."

"Oh boy," said Harry.

"Do we have to have these mysteries every year?" said Hermione.

"Do we have to tell them he's not lying?" said Ron.

"Yes," said Harry.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

"I've found it!" Ron yelled. 

"Good work, Ron. Professor Dumbledore has taken Draco up to his office," said Hermione, who had been wisely paying attention.

The three raced up to the entrance to Dumbledore's office to find that they were already inside. "Oh, great, what do we do now?" asked Harry.

"Now we've got to find Professor McGonagall," said Hermione.

"For what, may I ask?" said Professor McGonagall, coming around the corner.

"Professor McGonagall!" they all yelled. Ron continued, "He wasn't lying, Professor. I have his book, it was switched with mine!"

"Calm down, Mr. Weasley," said Professor McGonagall sternly. "That is not proof."

"But…" stuttered Hermione.

"But it is evidence, and we will have to consider it. I will take the book up to Professor Dumbledore." She took it from Ron and opened the door, signalling to them that they should leave.

"Professor, I know you think Draco is no good, and he probably isn't, but honestly, I don't think he did it!" said Harry.

Seeing how agitated they were, Professor McGonagall sighed. "You may come up to Dumbledore's office," she said. They looked up hopefully. "IN A MINUTE! Give me time to tell him this." With that, she left them.

"All right!" said Ron. "We get to go in Dumbledore's office!"

Hermione tapped her foot nervously. "Do we get to go up yet?"

They were worried about Draco Malfoy. It hit them all of a sudden. The last couple of months had convinced them that he was not all bad, but they hadn't known that they would start to care about what happened to him.

"This is weird," said Harry, voicing it for all of them.

Ron stared at the floor for a while and said, "I think we can go up now."

The three ascended the staircase to Dumbledore's office and stood outside the door. Hermione was on the verge of opening it when they heard Draco speaking.

"Please, I swear I didn't do it…I swear…"

Professor McGonagall cut in. "That may be the case, Mr. Malfoy, but we will certainly have to tell your parents anyway. This sort of thing does not happen everyday." 

"No! I… please don't, he… please…"

"Calm down, Mr. Malfoy. I do not believe this was your doing," said Professor Dumbledore.

"Then why do you have to tell my parents!" He exploded in frustrated tears.

"I should have told you already, Mr. Malfoy, that before the school year began I received a letter concerning you." Professor Dumbledore pulled the letter out of his desk. "You should read this."

Draco started reading it, and that was when Hermione opened the door. The three stepped into Dumbledore's office nervously. Dumbledore smiled and gestured for them to sit down.

Draco continued reading the letter and broke out into a cold sweat. "Who... who is this from? Why me? What about the… the Slyth… oh…" He looked as if he were about to faint.

"Minerva, please get some tea to calm him down," said Dumbledore sharply. Professor McGonagall nodded and left.

Harry, Ron and Hermione wondered if they should leave. Harry started to get up, but Professor Dumbledore gestured for him to stay. They looked between Draco and Dumbledore and wondered what was going on.

"Why do they say I don't belong in Slytherin?" asked Draco, trying to sound curious but feeling as if his throat was so dry he could hardly talk. The three Gryffindors were shocked. Draco seemed the archetype of a Slytherin.

"I was hoping you could tell me that," said Dumbledore coolly.

Draco took a deep breath. "Okay." 

Professor Dumbledore gestured toward the other students. "Would you like them to leave?"

Draco looked over with a face more troubled than they had ever seen it and said, "They can stay."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but merely said, "Very well. Why do you think someone might think you don't belong in Slytherin House?"

"My father… Lucius… he told me a couple of months ago."

Draco related the entire story - how his father was not his father, how he was kicked out, how the Weasleys took him in. He told about the kindness he had been shown, and the money he had put in their bank vault in gratitude. He said that he had had fun with people he never thought he would spend time with, and told Dumbledore about the poisoned rock incident. And then a bomb had gone off in the very room to which he was headed. 

"Everything is upside down," he finished, crying.

Everyone else in the room felt the same way.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Draco spent most of the next few days moping around the Slytherin common room. He didn't feel like facing Ron or Hermione or Harry, or any of the teachers who had been alerted about the danger to him. The Slytherins were almost as bad, though, with their talk of the Dark Lord and their supremacy over the other houses… over the Mudbloods. Finally, he had had enough of that and decided to go to Potions class, for a change.

Unfortunately for him, Hermione was on the lookout and as soon as he stepped out of the Slytherin common room, she pulled him into an empty classroom. "Draco! Are you alright?"

He ground his teeth. "I'm fine."

"You haven't left your common room in days. That is not normal behaviour. Don't lie. But Draco, if you need anything…"

"I don't need anything."

"Look, Draco…"

"Why are you hanging around my common room?"

"Didn't anyone tell you? After Gryffindor Tower went to pieces, they moved us all down next to the Slytherins. Bloody horrible idea, in my opinion."

"Mine, too."

"Look, Draco, I don't see why you're suddenly so sulky. If you've known for months, why is it so bad now?"

"Because, Granger, it is not supposed to be like this!"

"Because the Gryffindors aren't supposed to know?"

He shook his head. "Look, I've been a Slytherin for more than five years. I've been a Malfoy all my life. But now, suddenly, BAM! Where has it gone?"

"I don't get it, Draco. You're still a Slytherin. You're still a Malfoy."

"But I shouldn't be! And nobody knows, but they will. And I know. And where will I go when the truth comes out?" He banged his fist on the wall. "THIS IS NOT MY FAULT! I want my parents back! I want my home, I want my friends, I want to know WHERE I AM SUPPOSED TO BE!"

"I know," said Harry, slipping in the door. He and Hermione smiled sadly at each other.

"I've got to go, Potions starts in a few minutes," she said softly, and left.

"Look, Potter," said Draco, "I don't know what you're up to, but leave me out of it. The Boy Who Lived to Be Self-Righteous is not what I need." Harry cringed as he heard the nasty nickname, and Draco cringed inwardly to say it. He hadn't meant to. He tried again. "Potter, why are you here?"

"I just wanted to tell you, Draco, that if you wanted to talk, I know something about not having a father. And about having a family that doesn't like you, as well."

Draco winced at hearing the truth. He didn't want to think about his family. "No thanks. Harry."

Harry nodded and turned to leave, upset at having not been able to do anything. Then he had a thought, and turned back to Draco.

"Say, Draco… do you have any idea why the Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin? If you're 'not supposed to be there,' I mean."

"I don't know."

"Maybe Professor Dumbledore would. The Hat tried to put me in Slytherin."

Draco felt a twinge at hearing that Harry Potter was more suited to his house than he was. "So why aren't you?"

"Because I didn't want to be."

"You – oh, let's be cryptic! What a game!" Draco got angry and pushed past Harry. "Let me go, I've got to get to Potions."

"So do I." Harry tagged him all the way to Potions class, but fortunately for the exasperated Draco, there weren't any seats together. Draco sat next to Neville, who looked at him nervously but was too afraid to say anything to him, to Draco's relief. 

Professor Bush came in. "Good morning, class. Hopefully you remembered that we're going to be making Sugar Coating Solution today. It's the potion that will instantly turn anything into candy, so you're going to like it. You've brought your materials?" A look around the classroom confirmed that most students had not. Hermione held hers up triumphantly, but Draco, who hadn't been to Potions class lately, stared blankly at the wall and hoped to not be noticed.

Professor Bush noticed him, however. Once she distributed ingredients to the students who didn't have them, she called him up to her desk.

"For not being in class before," he thought. He strode up defiantly.

"Draco. Professor Dumbledore has informed me of your… problems with your family. However, I would appreciate it if you informed me if you decided to not come to class. If you are avoiding your fellow students, I would be happy to help you out with some private tutoring."

"Creepy old lady," he thought. What he said out loud was, "That's very kind of you, Professor, but I think I will be fine."

"We'll see, Draco. Just remember that I will help you if I can in any way."

= = = = = = = = = = = =

After class, Draco went straight to Dumbledore's office. It seemed that the professor had been waiting for him to show up.

"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy. Or would you prefer to be called Draco?"

"Draco."

"You have a question for me, Draco?"

Draco thought that was a little creepy. "Yeah…"

"Which is?"

He took a deep breath, hoping he wanted to know. "Why did the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin?"

Dumbledore rose from behind his desk and went to the Sorting Hat, which was sitting on a shelf. "A very good question. A sort which I've been asked before. Did you know, Draco, that this hat did not choose Gryffindor as a first choice for your… acquaintance, Harry Potter?"

"Yes, I did," said Draco. He did not reveal that he had learned this less than an hour ago.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Ah, a very well informed young man."

"But what about me? Why did I get put in Slytherin if I wasn't supposed to?"

"Because, Draco, this hat is not omniscient. It can tell whether you are a pure-blood only through whether you think you are, and you certainly thought so. The reason it put you in Slytherin, though, was because you wanted to be a Slytherin. You thought like a Slytherin. Thought is all that matters to a Thinking Hat." Dumbledore smiled. "And, I daresay, thought is what matters to most anyway. Your blood does not affect your future. Even pure-bloods are sometimes terrible at magic. You, however, are a much better student than many I have seen."

"So… I am a Slytherin because I thought I should be? But what now that I know I shouldn't?" Draco frowned.

Dumbledore frowned too. "I am afraid I don't know. I don't believe we've ever had a student change houses before. But if you decide that you would like to, I am sure the Sorting Hat would not mind finding another house for you. Think on it, and come back to tell me what you have decided. I will tell you, before you go, something I once told Mr. Potter about this very same subject. It is our choices that show what we truly are."

Draco had a long night.


End file.
